Of Poppycock and Microwave Oatmeal
by skwirelygurli
Summary: When Chad is stuck at Sonny's during a winter storm, what will happen? Channy.
1. poppycock and microwave oatmeal

**Of Poppycock and Microwave Oatmeal, a Sonny With a Chance Fiction**

**I do not own SWAC. Please review!**

In the dead cold of winter the last thing I want to be is freezing under a blanket with Chad Dylan Cooper. Actually make that half under a blanket. Somebody is hogging his half of my blanket. For not liking my Wisconsin afghan, he sure is cozy wrapped up in it. The tips of his boring white socks stick out the ends next to my eccentric Dora socks. Chad has already made fun of me twice today for wearing them. Remind me again why I agreed to sharing my blanket with him?

I swear my mother must've turned on the air conditioning before she left. If I were to cry at this overly ridiculous episode of Mackenzie Falls that I'm being forced to watch, my tears would come out as icicles. Okay, so maybe forced isn't the right word. But it was either this or the weather channel. And I don't need to be told how cold it is outside. Or how it's too icy to let the blanket hog safely drive home. I was the one who begged him for a ride though.

Mom had gotten stuck at work and couldn't pick me up. So doing me a 'great favor' as she puts it, she called Chad. The ride home was full of static, most likely coming from the car radio that he refused to believe was still turned on. I kept hearing this buzzing noise. Every time I'd reach to adjust it, he'd swat my hand away. He didn't want me touching the Chadmobile. Well my butt was obviously touching the Chadmobile, so hah.

I crawl off of the couch. Chad doesn't seem to notice. I sneak off into the kitchen and open up the cupboards. I can't find any hot chocolate. I stare at the open cupboard, hoping some will magically appear.

"What are we looking for?" Chad's sudden presence catches me by surprise. I jump. He laughs at my expense and I settle down.

"I thought you were watching yourself on TV." I ignore his question and go back to searching the cupboards. I pull out a canister of oatmeal instead.

"I didn't have anyone to tell how great I was to." He stole a grape off the fruit bowl on my counter. He popped it in his mouth. "Besides, I'm hungry."

I filled a microwave bowl with oats and water. Chad took the bowl from me and set it in the microwave. He fumbled with the buttons. The microwave lit up, cooking the oatmeal.

"Shouldn't you have read the directions first?" I patiently lean up against the counter. The microwave sounds that it's done and Chad opens the door to retrieve the oatmeal. Except, instead of being all nice and in a cup, it's all over my microwave. My eyes narrow at the mess he's made.

Forming a spoon with his fingers, he clears a section of the microwave. He licks it off his hand and sighs contentedly. "This is some really great oatmeal Munroe. Try some." He goes back for more, using his clean hand. He licks this hand too.

"No thanks." I'm slightly disgusted by his actions. It's not something I'd expect him to do. Just like how I didn't expect him to take both of his newly washed hands, cover them in oatmeal, and rub it across my entire face, sans my lips.

I've heard of oatmeal facials, but this is a bit extreme. Caving, I take one of the few globs left and smear it across his face. We match, but he manages to make it look good. That's sad. Oatmeal is hardening in the dish, and I'm thinking about how cute Chad looks with a beard of oats.

We remove the bowl from the now clean microwave. There's about a spoonful or two to eat. Or you know, in Chad's case smear on me. This time though, he doesn't use his hand. He applies it like lip balm and edges closer.

"Looks like I missed a spot." He accomplishes his task. Content, he licks the bowl clean, slowly, never breaking eye contact with me. I flushed, not that you could tell. The room doesn't feel that cold anymore. That might be the oatmeal's fault for burning my cheeks. Not that there isn't another source causing my cheeks to burn.

I wash my face off, the oatmeal clogging the drain. We clean it out too. The boring regular way. None of this, smear it all over each others face and pretend we didn't kiss afterwards. Hey, my skin does feel smoother.

The floorboard creaks beneath my feet. "Poppycock?" I suggest, trading the oatmeal canister for a different snack.

"Are you trying to tell me that was your father that made that noise? And that he's a rooster! I mean you introduced me to your mother but not Papa Cock? I can't believe I tried to make a move on you!" Chad crossed his arms and gave me the cold, quite literally, shoulder.

"I was offering you some candied popcorn." I held out the bag of nutty treats. Now that the oatmeal was gone, I could tell Chad was blushing. I decided to let it slide for now since he called my dad a rooster. He embarrassed himself enough without my help.

He expression faltered. "Oh. Well then the last five minutes never happened." He stole the bag from me and retreated to the couch.

"So you didn't try to make a move on me." I nodded my head logically. He was confused at first, trying to calculate how I had come upon that idea. When it dawned on him what he had said, he swallowed.

"Of course not. Me, make a move on a Random. Psh." He swatted his hand. We crawled back under the blanket, turning back to the TV.

"That's what I thought." I snuggled down into the crevice of the couch. Chad pushed a little more blanket towards me. He tried really hard for it to look like an accident. So I took my half without comment, covering everything but my Dora toes. His white toes peeped out at the bottom. His foot rubbed against mine. His head was facing the TV, his gaze pointed at me.

Chad Dylan Cooper did not make moves on Randoms. He also didn't share blankets with them. But that's just it. To Chad I'm not a Random. I'm his friend, hopefully soon to be more if he ever gets his act together.

So we sit on the couch watching Mackenzie Falls reruns, munching on Poppycock. And that's just what we are.

Poppycock.


	2. apple polish and shift keys

**Apple Polish and Shift Keys**

It's nearly two hours into our Mackenzie Falls marathon, and Chad has already polished off our bag of Poppycock. Except the one piece that's dangling from his golden locks. I reached out to pluck it. At this point, he turned his head to remark on his supreme acting skills.

My hand instantly jerked backward. He flinches. My hand was still occupying the space between us.

"Were you going to slap me?" He's outraged by my nonexistent desire to harm him. I placed my hand in my lap. I felt my shoulders droop, ashamed. Wait, why am I ashamed of something I didn't do? Chad can't have that much control on me. I need to steal some back.

I straightened myself up. This caused the blanket to sag to my lap. I let the cold bite at my torso. Even buttoned into my cardigan, the cold managed to sneak in. My hand rose from my lap. Pluck. The kernel dropped in between the depths of the sofa cushions. His gaze followed.

"Clearly I have it out for you. That's why I let you stay beneath this nice warm blanket rather than sending you out in the cold." My body shivered. The emphasis wasn't intentional, but it did help. He nodded.

He tucked me back under. Beyond what you're thinking, which I'd assume to be under the covers. He also tucked me under his arm. This granted me full access to his chest. It made cozy pillow. It didn't do much for seeing the TV though. Oh well. If I wanted to see Chad, I'd turned my head.

But for the time being, I was content using him as a piece of furniture. I could've almost fallen asleep on him. In fact, I did. We had been watching yet another episode of Mackenzie Falls, which I will not admit out loud that I have on a video tape hidden in an old shoe box under my bed. It'd only inflate his ego that much more that I could repeat Penelope's lines from memory. Okay, confession here. My friends and I used to role-play with video Chad. A lot.

It was a slumber party tradition to fawn over him. Now that I have matured, I know it was stupid to dream about his perfectly smooth hair and pristine teeth. No matter how handsome he is. Yet when I woke up, my first thought was _Oh gosh, please let me not of drooled all over his shirt. _Yeah, I'm not going to tell you about the dream I had.

Chad must've dozed off. Or he finds it fun to recite lines with his eyes closed. I'm so making fun of him later for sleep talking. He was talking about some girl named Alison. He kept telling her how they're destined to be together. That show is so overdone. Who really is that dramatic? _Balderdash Alison! Let's run away and be happy together. _

I wished I could hear the other side of the conversation. I could fill in the gaps for the most part. _Alas Mackenzie, I cannot. _Insert drawn out gasp here. His response was a shock. _Please Sonny, I beg you. _

Hang on. Not so fast. Hold the phone. Sonny? I'm Sonny. This cannot make sense. Why would Mackenzie be talking to Sonny? Unless... no. I refuse to believe that Chad Dylan Cooper is having a, dare I say it, romantic fantasy about me. The idea itself made me giggle. Enough to wake him up.

He smiled at first, then his eyes popped in realization. "You're awake." It's a statement, not a question. He knows I heard him. Caught him red handed. Well, his hands are technically a pale peachy color. That's aside the point.

"Ever consider I'm part fish? Maybe I can sleep with my eyes open." I lifted my head off of his chest. A brief flash of hope came across his face.

"Can you?" We were both fully aware of the case at hand. I decided to make light of the situation.

"I promise I won't spoil the new Mackenzie Falls script with anybody. You should watch where you spout that kind of stuff though. Or else an anonymous source might tell the press that Mackenzie has a new love interest." Relief flushed through his system. He regained his composure. For the most part.

"I'll buy you lunch for a week if you promise to never speak of this again. Not even to me." His cover was being blown, and he had to nail it back down, fast.

"No need to be an apple polisher Chaddy. I told you, your secret's safe." I relaxed into his chest. He fingered my hair. At this rate, Chad might ask me out by summer. Whether a certain purple polka dot bikini buried in my top dresser drawer has anything to do with it is his choice. It all depends on how he reacts.

When it happens, it is so going on my blog. And trust me, there will be lots of capital letters and exclamation points.

I hope I don't break my shift key.


	3. galvanic stimes and oeillades

**Galvanic Stimes and Oeillades **

My intentions were one hundred percent innocent. I had gotten up, almost tripping over the blanket I might add. I was headed towards my bedroom to grab some extra pillows. The couch was getting to be a bit stiff. Okay, so the only thing stiffer was the air between the two of us. I'd like to take this opportunity to completely blame Chad.

As we watched the Wendy's commercial for the third commercial in a row (No, I will not leave this house to go buy a BLT Cobb Salad stomach, so you might as well quit your whining.) Chad's eyes bore into my head. It was as though a drill was penetrating my head. Each glimpse and glance was more forceful than the last. Finally, I had to ask.

"Are you trying to melt my brain with your superpowers?" I could imagine Chad in a pair of red tights and a flowing blue cape. One long enough that he'd have to have someone hold it up so he doesn't trip on it. Perhaps his trusty sidekick.

He would be called Super Cooper. His sidekick would be Little Miss Sonshine. No relation to me of course. His powers would involve hair gel and hypnotism. I know I can be persuaded by him. The smile with the eyes and the voice. It's all the influence a girl needs. Sadly, it's all the influence some guys need too.

His nose crinkled. I could tell he was trying not to laugh. "Is it working?" He leaned back into the hard cushions. This is when he asked me for the pillow. Those stinking powers of his made me oblige.

I had heard a crash coming from the kitchen and armed myself with the two pillows I had tucked under my arm. I snuck across the room. A figure approached from the door. I swung the pillow violently. I didn't plan to knock him down. Honest. It just happened. Not that I have a problem with that.

Chad reached an arm out, grasping at air. Feeling bad about what I had done, I stuck out a hand. He grinned maliciously. Oh God, why did I trust him? With a swift yank, I was down on the ground. He seized a pillow and began his assault.

Here we were, wrestling on the floor like two eight year old girls at a sleepover. Minus the My Little Pony pillow cases and purple toenail polish. If Chad falls asleep first, I will take a Sharpie to his face. Sleepover rules.

At the position we were in, it was a relief that I was wearing a cardigan. There are some things in the world Chad Dylan Cooper is better of not seeing. Or at least until after he's married. I caught him ogling despite the fact. It made me want to slap him upside his head for being a pervert. In this particular arrangement, it may be better to slap him downside his head. That's be way easier.

We reach a ceasefire. He claims it's only because he has to go to the bathroom. Silently, he gets up and excuses himself. I enter the kitchen. The kettle was on, boiling water. Two mugs rested on the counter. Steam blew. I poured the water into the mugs and absent mindedly stirred.

The cocoa was well dissolved by now. I had garnished my drink with a plentiful amount of whipped cream. I waited to ask Chad if he wanted any. What was taking that boy so long anyway? I exited the kitchen to go looking for him. He could be reading my diary!

I walked straight into his chest, which I was becoming more familiar with as our time here progressed. He didn't complain like normal. Instead, he bore another hole into my head. I blinked. He blinked.

"You must've really had to go." I commented, traveling back into the kitchen.

"More than you know Sonny. More than you know." He squirted a generous amount of whipped cream into his mug. A dollop shot out from the top. I swept it up with a swoop of my finger. I polished it off, sucking the sweet cream.

We ventured to the living room, where we returned to the blanket. Chad took a long sip of his drink. The loud slurping broke some of the tension. Sure his arm was tucked around his drink instead of me. Sure his eyes were firmly planted on Wendy's commercial in front of us. (Still not buying it!) But I'm wearing him down.

How can I tell you ask?

It's all about the oeillades.


	4. marionettes and angstroms

**Marionettes and Angstroms**

If all the world's a stage, can I be the director? To be a player or actor in my soap opera love life is frustrating. I want to be able to scream cut. I want the ability to practice and run witty lines that some guy with enough sense wrote. Otherwise, who knows what'll be coming out of my mouth. Improvisation is fine in comedy. Soap operas not so much.

Lately around Chad I've noticed this. Some lady, who's so old her head looks like the end of a cotton swab, is probably addicted to watching me play my part. She better face the facts. There will be no rushed kisses, nor stripping of the clothes. I can't promise anything about screaming matches.

I could be the stunt coordinator. Chad, go jump off that prop cliff over there. He'd do it if I made him. Granted it'd be nice if I told him it wasn't a prop... Just kidding! I'd never intentionally hurt him. With a cliff at least. I'm impartial to hitting him.

I suppose being an editor would suffice. If I were to by the off chance say something I shouldn't or make a mistake, I'd cut it out. It'd be like it was never a reality. No more in between a rock and a hard place. In this case, the wall of my closet. We gave up on our Mackenzie Falls marathon. (Some of us more willing than others mind you. I.e., Chad.) Now we're playing hide and seek.

Instead, I'm stuck as an actress. The director clearly has it out for me and the stunt coordinator enjoys causing me harm. I found a bruise on my forehead yesterday. Had walked straight into an open cupboard. So you know, I slammed it shut. Okay, well more like gently pushed it so I wouldn't wake my mom up. But I showed that cupboard who was the boss.

Obviously the cupboard was.

I wish I was a cartoon. Those things are like, invincible. How many times has Will E. Coyote come back to life? Or how a character can be run over by a steam roller and by the next commercial break they are smiling and bandage free. Sure my mouth would be out of sink with my words. It's a small price to pay.

I'd be sweet to work my stage like marionette dolls. After testing to make sure that I could make Chad do various motions such as tying his shoe, or slapping himself in the face, I'd direct him the way I wanted to with ease. He could frolic through the flowers. That'd be fun. For me, if not him.

My life with him is quite the opposite. There are no strings attached in our relationship. That is, if you call what goes on amongst the two of us a relationship. I'm not certain how I'd go about naming this bond we have. Calling it a bond makes it seem special. I need to find a different word to describe it. Unfortunately, whenever I try I always come short of finding one.

I could hear Chad's footsteps. He was circling my bed by the sound of it. No Chad, I'm not under there, hiding behind a stack of teen magazines with your face on them. Move along now. He obeyed my silent command, nearing my window. I heard the blinds slink up. Yes Chad, it is still snowing. Brilliant observation. Can we get back to our game now please? The blinds collapse downward. My knee got a serious cramp in it. If he didn't find me soon, I was going to pop out and scare him out of his wits. That is, if he has any. Payback time.

As I was going to get up to escape the mountain of stuffed toys I had buried myself in, the closet door creaked open. I hid my face with the dolls my fans had been sending me. Hide and seek is the only useful cause for this stack. I was stuck amidst Horris the elephant and Tallulah the flamingo. Reginald the sea lion was poking me in the eye. My face remained stolid. He skimmed over me at first, but found me. Thanks Maggie moose for announcing my presence. I knew my knee would give out. I only wished it wouldn't give out on a noisy toy. No such luck.

Chad yanked me out of the closet, tumbling backwards. He reached out to catch me before I lost my balance. We were an angstrom apart. This was awkward. I could feel each exhale. When he inhaled, sharply, my hair wafted in the breeze. I pressed my lips together, fighting the urge to reapply my A&W flavored chapstick. Nothing was going to happen, so why bother?

"Do you think if Horris and Tallulah were to get together their fans would call them Hallelujah?" I cracked, picking up the stuffed toys. Crisis averted.

Chad rolled his eyes. "You are so weird." He thought for a moment, taking the animals from me. "They'd obviously be Taurus." That's so typical of Chad, counteracting me because he can. Horris slouches in his palm. See, even the elephant agrees with me.

He tossed the animals aside and invaded my personal bubble. I guess we were headed toward that crisis again. I didn't have another aversion. I needed one quick. That hawk-like glare in his eye freaked me out. His eyelashes batted at mine, our lips only that same angstrom away. Then it was inches, then feet, and soon rooms as he left me standing alone in a pile of stuffed toys.

I tried to escape, but kept getting caught up in the mess of stuffed toys. He returned, moments later, blanket in tow. Pushing me down, he sat next to me.

Then he reached up, and turned out the light.


	5. sedulity and candelabras

**Sedulity and Candelabras**

The closet isn't big enough for the two of us. Chad's elbow was dangerously close to my face. My knee was digging into his side, causing him pain. I tried to give him more room when I saw him wince. I reintroduced myself to the wall. I should've thought of this when I was trying to convince my mom to give me a bigger closet. _Yes mom, I need a bigger closet so Chad and I can both fit in there together. _On second thought, I'm glad I didn't.

"Not that I'm not enjoying being acquainted with this wall and all Chad, but uh, why exactly are we in here?" I couldn't make out his face with the faint glow coming from my phone screen. This was most likely intentional on his part.

"Well I had to ask you a question." He stated it in a matter of fact kind of way. He propped himself up on his side.

"In my closet." I deadpanned. I was hoping he'd catch the sarcastic undertones of my voice. If he wanted to ask me a question, he could've gone ahead and done it anywhere else. Preferably somewhere with more elbow room.

"Exactly." He nodded like this wasn't in any way abnormal. Apparently Chad Dylan Cooper often takes girls into closets to ask them questions. That is worth some speculation. I'm sure girls would line up next to janitors closets all across America if they thought they could get trapped in one with the greatest actor of our generation.

I would've been one of those girls. Now, I realize that a closet is one of the last places I want to be stuck with him. Perhaps a quaint little desert island where we can draw a line down the middle. I'd stay on my side having hunky surfer boys serving me mango smoothies in a coconut. He'd get the side with all of the sand crabs.

"And the light's off because..." I trailed off. Tree branches cracked and the wind howled. He flicks the light switch to the on position to no avail. Light didn't fill the room and I still felt cramped, if not slightly claustrophobic. Frustrated, I violently flipped the switch back and forth. Great, the power was out.

I trampled over Chad to get out of the closet. If I could find some candles and matches we'd be set. After rummaging through the storage closet, all I could find was a candelabra. Well, as long as we weren't feasting at a candlelit dinner it seemed innocent enough. All my innocent intentions have been backfiring on me today.

He crawled into the room, feet dragging. I handed over the matches. He stroked it across the box, creating a spark. One by one the room grew brighter. Once I could see his face, I resumed our closet conversation. This was much easier now that Chad came out of the closet.

"You were going to ask me something?" The flames danced. He continued to light the candles until each had it's own fire. He extinguished the match.

"No I wasn't." I piped up to tell him that he did, but he cut me off. "Nope. You're going crazy Munroe." He snapped the match in half. Ashes fell to the floor. It's pointless to argue. I let it slide. The rest of the match got set on the table. Wax dripped down the center candle. It pooled at the bottom. Our eyes watched it's journey down the candelabra.

Minimal warmth radiated off the flame. Regardless, we fought for the attention of the heat. Get you own candelabra Chad. I nudged him out of the way. He nudged me, commanding his spot back. I held my spot. This did not please him. I did not care that he was not pleased.

His fingertips numbly tickled my spine. He huffed at my reluctance to respond. He moved onto my sides. I managed not to squirm. This was proving to be difficult. He let his fingers rest, nuzzling his head past a bundle of hair based at my neck. His breath was warm at the tips of my ears. A shiver was sent down my spine. Sadly, I will openly admit that the cold was not the culprit.

I wriggle out of Chad's grasp. Greedily, he hogs the heat of the flame. That boy sure is sedulous. If I'd held out longer, what would he of done next? More importantly, how far would I have let him go?

More tree branches crack. I relocate to in between his arms. His gives me an inquisitive look. I'm tired of unanswered questions. I don't know how far I'm going to let him go.

I guess we'll find out when we get there.


	6. bric a brac and poltroonery

**Bric-a-Brac and Poltroonery**

Ever carry a conversation with yourself inside your head even though there is a perfectly alive person in the same room as you?Like, there's a little elf in your head named Galahad and it's his job to make you feel completely insane, yet normal at the same time. He's there to tell you what you want to hear. Or, if he's in a particularly snippy mood, what you need to hear. I swear that elf is bipolar. One minute it's _Go ahead Sonny, cuddle in between Chad's arms._ Then all of a sudden, it's bam! _Tell him he's a coward Sonny. Stick it to him like day old bubble gum. _

Yeah, so this is one of those times. Galahad, who I named at the ripe old age of three after hearing the story of King Arthur, is having an episode. He nudged me towards the fire. I thought he had meant the candle flames of the candelabra. Well he didn't. Apparently he meant the fire in my heart when I get near Chad. Or is that indigestion? I heard on a Tums® commercial that what I eat could be causing this sensation. I highly doubt it's true.

Once I was in his arms, neither of us knew what to do. Galahad must've gone out on a coffee date, because he sure wasn't there to help me out. It aught to figure. I turn to someone for guidance and what do I get. Absolutely nothing. Looks like it's time to put my schooling to use and make a move. On my own. Curse you tiny elf.

I leaned my head back on Chad's chest. His body became rigid. For once a strong guy knowing what he wants, he can switch to coward awfully quickly. He didn't let go, despite his discomfort. That's a step in the right direction.

Galahad returned from his coffee date. He brought back Doris, his girlfriend. While I had always imagined him having a punk rock girlfriend with a nose piercing and purple hair, she was quite the contrary. It was almost as if a new part of my subconscious had been uncovered. She was a bubbly bottle blond. She slurped a large caramel macchiato.

With Galahad being there to contradict my, shall we say, animated character there was never a need to unearth Doris. Now that I'm confused and demure he decided it was best to dust her off and rendezvous about. I am peeved and pleased at the same time. I need the help. That doesn't mean I want to admit I'm talking to two pint sized elves in my head.

I decided to name Doris after the aunt of Atlas. She was an oceanid nymph that mothered fifty kids. I had learned about her when I took mythology as an elective back in Wisconsin. She was the goddess of rich fishing grounds. I can't imagine elf Doris going fishing. She'd be too afraid to touch a worm. The only fishing she's going to be doing is fishing for love. More specifically, fishing for Chad.

At the crack of another tree branch, she spilled her coffee. Galahad got distracted, helping her mop up the mess. Of course this is when Chad decides he is comfortable and finally relaxes. His posture slackened. It was more like hugging then. His chin had come to rest on my shoulder. I jerked forward, careful not to catch on fire. There was no way I was becoming one of those movie clichés.

_What are you doing kiddo? It was working. _Doris had a fresh cup of coffee, this time a cinnamon dolce latte. I'm starting to think she has an addiction to Starbucks. Ah well, as long as she doesn't get a caffeine high. I am not going to deal with that headache.

"What's wrong?" Chad asked, taken aback by my actions. My eyes scrunched shut for a moment as I collected my thoughts. I think I may need a mind to mouth censor. It's just a hunch. But what came out of my mouth next made me question it.

"Doris and Galahad are trying to tell me how I should run my life." It was off the cuff, and brainless. I could sense two elf palms connecting with their face, dragging down the features. That is, if elves face palm. For all I know they might yank their ears when one epically fails. That would explain why they are pointy. To many stretchings like Silly Putty gone wrong.

"What are you talking about?" He tilted the candelabra so he could get a better look at my face.

"A caffeine addict and anarchist elf inside my head. Constantly telling me what to do, how to do it. I know how to run my own love life thank you very much." My last comment is aimed at them. _Whatever. Knock yourself out. _They leave me alone, probably to go make a montage together. That's how it works in all romance movie clichés. Boy meets girl. Girl falls for boy despite the fact that they are from two different worlds. Boy and girl dance around the truth. Boy pulls girl towards himself and runs hand down her cheek. Girl tilts head and goes in for light kiss. Boy leans in for tonsil hockey. Then they montage until they fight, breakup, and get back together to live happily ever after.

I can guarantee that Chad and I will not end up like this. We've advanced past the first step. And the second. But I refuse to let his hand run down my cheek. Even if it does, I am not going to let my head tilt to the right, mirroring him. Our lips will not connect in hopes of a spark, only to be replaced by a dire need to swallow each others tongues. What kind of sick nasty creature would allow themselves to succumb to such clichés? Certainly not I.

If he wants this, he has to prove it. I allotted time for him to make a move. Any move he wants. Instead, he nodded like he's dealing with a psycho and took the candelabra to my room. I followed him. He most likely deserted me to escape my mental instability, but I don't care. If he's my only other choice in company besides a pair of elves, I'm taking it. He held the light up to examine my bookshelf. It's filled with all sorts of bric-a-brac. There's a Beatles record propped up next to an arrangement of picture books from my childhood. Looks like he found the dad shelf. He used to read _Barbie A Picnic Surprise _and _The Sailor Dog _until he was blue in the face. _Little Golden books _were a family tradition every night at 8 o clock. I haven't read one in years.

Since Chad refuses to deal with his poltroonery for the time being, I'm going to do something else. Something I've wanted to do for a long while. I tugged gently at the spine. It tumbled off the bookshelf into my arms. I descended onto my bed, pulling Chad over with me. He set the candelabra on the chest at the foot of my bed. We laid down, feet at the mound of pillows. I tucked my head into the crook of his shoulder. He covered us with the blanket. I opened the book, creating a new crease in the binding.

"The Poky Little Puppy." Chad's eyebrows raised in question. Regardless, he took the book from me and began to read.

_Five little puppies dug a hole under the fence and went for a walk in the wide, wide world..._


	7. timorousness and zwieback

**Timorousness and Zwieback**

For some odd reason that I'm not entirely sure of myself, I feel at home in Chad's arms. Well, yes, I am technically at home. But I mean a more, emotional, loved kind of way. I've been missing a father figure in my family for a while now. Not that I want Chad to be my father. Let me make it perfectly clear that I do not. Besides, my mom's no cougar. At least I hope not.

I peered up at him as he reads about the puppy missing out on the strawberry shortcake. I've always felt bad for the puppy. Sure he deserved it after eating all of the rice pudding and chocolate custard and all. But that poor puppy. Nobody should have to go to bed hungry. Not even little trouble makers. If so, I imagine Chad would be going to bed hungry quite frequently.

He closed the book. I sat up to let him get out from underneath me. Instead, he didn't budge. He reopened the book, thumbing through the pages. I hope he doesn't plan on going through the story again. It took all of my strength not to fall asleep the first time. Dad used it to lull me to sleep. Every night, I'd cuddle up with my stuffed pig and a Golden Book®.

Despite the lateness in hour, Dad drank coffee during story time. Once upon a slurp... The story seemed different without the added noise. Chad did fine at reading the book. It wasn't the same though. Nothing ever can be. It was utterly him. Trust me, I'm not complaining. I appreciate his trial and efforts.

"You okay there Sonny?" His thumb was wedged in between two pages. I knew there must have been a distant look on my face. I was staring right at Chad, yet all I saw was my Dad. I hadn't thought about him in a while. Then Chad Dylan Cooper walks into my room, and sheds the light, literally, on the subject.

"Yeah." I shook my head, trying to let the thoughts escape. I wasn't about to let him see me cry. At least, not over a poky little puppy. "A smidgen teary eyed, but nothing that won't subside. Hey, that sorta rhymed! Eyed, subside. Aw, never mind." I was babbling to avoid conversation. All Chad had to do was be his normal, everyday self and let it go. Yet, we cannot forget. This is not normal everyday Chad we are dealing with here. It's timorous, quiet Chad, creature unknown to even the best hunters.

"I didn't mean to make you upset. Honest." He held his hands in front of me. I suppose this was to show he wasn't crossing his fingers or anything silly like that. I looped my hands with his, still levitating in the air. He moved my left hand in the shape of an upside down fish hook. The right side was soon to follow. Same shape, mirrored to go in the other direction. The four hands met at the bottom.

The simple gesture made my lips twitch at the corners. The words were sincere, from his heart. Not the one we had drawn in the air. Deep down, inside of Super Cooper is a golden heart. A golden heart that likes Golden Books®.

"You reminded me of my Dad. That's all." I dropped our hands down to the bed. The heart was romantic, but my arms were starting to ache. Now, only my heart had to ache. Galahad and Doris were knocking at the walls of my head. Either they were playing a super intense game of ping pong, or they were trying to tell me something. I know if I was trapped inside my head I'd want to get out.

I'm not certain that'd be possible. It would be impossible for my head to be in my head. My body could be up there though. I'd be like the Headless Horsemen. Except I wouldn't have a horse. And I'm not a man. Are there any other headless creatures out there? I've heard chickens can survive without their head for a limited amount of time. Sonny Munroe is not a chicken.

"I'm not sure if I should be flattered or incredibly creeped out." His thumb traced broken shapes onto my hand. My other hand felt understimulated. So logically, I copied the broken shapes onto his hand. His motions became more fluent. Soon, I was mapping hearts. I realized as time passed, he was following my movements, while I was following him. It was like playing hide and seek, but both people think they're it. You make you're move based on someone else, only to learn they've been watching you the entire time.

"It is the grandeur of compliments in my opinion. He was a funny, charming man." I accidentally squeezed his hand. He took this as reassurance. He returned the favor. Brown eyed memories faded to reveal the hopeful blue eyes glinting back at me. The commotion in my head stopped. Galahad and Doris must've called it a stalemate. Okay, so it's pretty obvious they weren't playing ping pong. It's clear they weren't watching the clouds up there either. Or whatever it is that elves watch inside a teenage girls head. I bet they say what my brain cells are shaped like.

_Hey that one's shaped like a dinosaur!_

_You say that about every one._

_Well maybe it's a herd of dinosaurs._

For the two of them, it's like getting front row seats to the movies. Sonny and Chad, the movie. Oh excuse me. I mean Chad and Sonny, the movie. Chad's ego is like a tire. You have to keep it inflated or the rest of the system can't function.

"Well you had to get your sense of humor from somebody. Any Punnett square could tell you that." He let go of my hand to relocate the page in the book. It would've been much easier had he let go of my other hand. His thumb persisted however. The edged became more defined. He was making stars.

"Since when have you been an expert on Punnett squares? I didn't think you'd remember anything from biology." I noticed the strange nature of his stars. Most often, guys take a continuous line and zigzag it until they shape a star. Then the middle is a muddle of lines. I took sudden interest in his craft. He managed to make immaculately symmetrical points time and time again. Without all of the middle rubbish. That was just like him. To avoid a big mess in order to make everything look pristine. Is it all a big waste of time? After all, how interesting is perfection anyway? Here's a hint: not very. Darn, I gave it away.

"When I scour for potential mates, it's important to find someone to compliment my features. Then I can have Dylan Chad Cooper, the best actor of his generation." I release his hand and whack him with my pillow. I don't know why. It's not like I'm going to be the one carry his baby around for nine months only to name it after the über conceited father. Nope, not a chance.

"You freak!" I whack him again and playfully tack on, "What if it's a girl?" He automatically expects to get what he wants in life. It's not like you can choose these kinds of things.

_Yes, I'd like a baby boy with big blue eyes and acting skills please._

_Anything else ma'am?_

_Oh yeah, and a small strawberry milkshake. Extra cream. _

_Please proceed to the next window._

"Sonny, we'll get it right the first time." He throws my pillow away. Thank God it did not hit the candelabra. He would be the one to explain why the apartment burnt down to my mother.

"We?" My eyes shrink back, trying to process what he said. Did he finally trip up? Can we move past this standstill? Be a man Chad, man up. Tell me how you're madly in love with me. Or you know, like me to an extent past friendship.

"Me and my future wife." He nervously scoffed, acting like nothing happened. Admit it Chad. We had a moment. And you secretly liked it. I know I did. He pondered for a brief moment. "I'd name her Layla. I heard the name in an Eric Clapton song once. For her middle name, I'd name her after my mommy." My heart fluttered at the sentiment. It's so sweet how much Chad loves his mom. I decided to tell him.

He decided not to further comment on the subject matter. Alternatively, he opened the book to the page he had marked. Surely, right on Poky's butt was a stain. It had been there for over a decade. He pointed at it questionably. "What's this?"

"That, dear boy, is a puppy butt. I thought you would've known that." He grimaces and I take a deep breathe. Alright kiddies, looks like it's story time. "You meant that tiny blackish spot near his tail? That's marionberry jelly. See, when I was a wee tot, my dad was reading with me in his armchair. It was large and red, like the one on Blue's Clues. He used to joke it was his thinking chair. I was snacking on some zwieback. Normally my mom would make snack for me, but she was out late at a work meeting. So of course, Dad and I had to make our own. He put so much jelly on mine that when I bit into it, it flew straight off onto the page. We cleaned it up as best we could."

"Did your mom ever find out what happened? Surely you could've gotten a new book." His fingers glided over the spot. The stain had settled long ago. Nevertheless, the smell of marionberry jelly vacationed in my nose.

"We didn't tell her. I didn't want her to get mad at me. She wouldn't be mad now, but you can't replace these kinds of things. I'll forever remember when Dad read me this book, munching away on our zwieback." I remember the crumbs scattered across my face; the crumbs dangling from his newly trimmed beard. I brushed my teeth twice that night to make sure my mom couldn't smell the jelly on my breath. If she sniffed around, all she'd find is a bouquet of mint embracing her. I made sure Dad had double flossed that night. We giggled ourselves to sleep.

"And Chad Dylan Cooper in the eye straining candlelight?" I blew out the candles. My eyes had to adjust as darkness enveloped us. This was easier on my eyes. I raised the curtains to reveal the moon beaming through the snow. He joined me at the window.

"Forever and always."


	8. delenda and slugabed

**Delenda and Slugabed **

I've found in this parallel universe I am seemingly trapped in, nothing makes sense. Here's a prime example. There is one full size bed in my room. It's big enough for two people to sit on, if they minimize their elbow room. And by minimize, I mean demolish. So as logic follows, only one person can sleep on the bed. I have clear ownership of the bed. Granted there's no tag on it that says _Property of Sonny _on it, but it's in my room. Therefore, it makes sense that I should have first dibs on the bed when it comes to sleeping arrangements. Right?

Now in the case presented before you today, we show you Exhibit A. You see my bed, in my room, with Chad's body soundly sleeping on it. His body is partially curled to compensate for the length of the bed. Otherwise his feet would dangle off the end. Yet rather than choosing the nice and roomy ground, complete with a Pikachu sleeping bag found at our neighbors garage sale, he opts for the bed. I never should have given him the option. I was trying to be civil. He is the guest after all. Somewhere, deep down, I'm thinking at least past my gall bladder, perhaps hiding in my long intestines was a piece of hope. One that said Chad would give me the bed.

We could've shared if we snuggled really close. Some call it spooning; I call it keeping warm. We are not utensils. Well, I know I'm not. With Chad around, you can never be too careful. Lately he's been being a real tool. A real uncool jerk who won't spill his deepest darkest secret to me. I shared something personal with him. He could reciprocate and share something with me. Even if it is only the bed.

Instead of sleeping with him- God that sounded awful. Let me rephrase that. Rather than going to bed with- nope that's not it. Umm, let's see. In lieu of inhabiting the same space as Chad during the hours of slumber I procured a spot on the floor. Snuggled into my discount sleeping bag, I was taken under by the moon. You remember, the moon that I was staring at earlier. The moon that witnessed the horrible attempt to conceal a move with an overstretched yawn. Yeah, smooth move Cooper. You ended up hitting me square in the jaw. If and when I get a bruise, you are going to kiss it and make it better.

Had that been your original intent, I'd applaud your idea. You'd skip straight over the ol' arm around the girl and go for the smooch. You expect me to 'accidentally' turn my head too, don't you? No you don't. I doubt you would've planned that far ahead. All that was on your mind last night was how good you looked in the moonlight. Wait, that was me. Then what were you thinking about? Suspicious.

You didn't volunteer to get me any ice. Suffice to say, the window was cold enough to do the job. Had I wanted it. I didn't. But still, you didn't give me the opportunity to turn down your gracious efforts. Where'd the boy that read me _Poky Little Puppy _go? That's right. In my bed! It was late, about ten thirty. I was too tired to fight. I zonked out for a while, until now. My nocturnal neighbors are not very kind. Seriously if I didn't know any better, I'd swear they were owls. They do have freakishly large eyes. I shook one's hand when we moved in and felt this strange scratching sensation. Maybe they have talons. Okay, I need to chill. My neighbors are not owls. I am not a field mouse, about to be attacked by them. Not at this hour anyway. It's barely past three in the morning, and I'm sleep deprived.

I smushed my face into my pillow. I convinced myself that despite the noise next door I would fall asleep. I covered my head with the pillow to drown out the sound. Then when the world was turned on mute, I realized I couldn't breath under the pressure of my pillow. I flopped around like a dead fish for a couple of minutes, finally falling asleep from sheer exhaustion. Doris and Galahad tinkered with my dreams, filling my head with peculiar thoughts. Chad holding out a bundle of daffodils to me with a stung lip. _I wub you._ Chad running from the cops after professing his love in green and blue graffiti paint. _Peace out suckas! _Chad getting knocked out by a series of snowballs. _Nice shot Munroe. _Chad, Chad, Chad! Not cool guys, not cool. On second thought, I liked decimating him with snowballs. That was sweet.

Doris and Galahad took a break toying with me. My dreams drifted to more normal topics like instant rice and bubbles. The rice was being thrown up in the air. Bubbles were being blown by all the younger children as I ran the steps in a beautiful white gown. A handsome top hat came tottling towards me. I continued to run away. I kept tripping on the skirt of the dress. The stranger soon caught up and twisted me about. He uttered an _I do_ and forcefully planted one on me. Strange, I wasn't aware of the identity of the man, but my body tingled in the dream. Evidently, I was in love.

Dying to find the truth, I pushed the hat off his head. A styled head of blond hair whooshed back. Suddenly I noticed the blue eyes sparkling at me. Delight was soon replaced with confusion as I fainted backwards, awaking from my dream. Although the temperature outside was dipping into the negatives, my body raged with heat. My heart raced. I have no idea with what; it was the sole part of me running. The rest of my body was in shock.

I wonder why on earth I had that dream. The originals were nothing anymore. Marriage is tad bit extreme though, yes? I'll tell myself it's because of our conversation we had yesterday night. _Self, this is nonsense. Your subconscious is simply compiling your thoughts from the preceding moments. You will not become Mrs. Chad Dylan Cooper. _There, that wasn't so hard.

Chad was being a slugabed. Well, from my point of view. To a person who's been up for the past half hour watching him sleep, it feels like forever. To the antithesis, he was sleeping until the sun rises. Perfectly acceptable. He yawned, this time for real instead of an excuse to punch me in the jaw. I feigned sleep. Nobody, and by nobody I mean Chad, needs to catch me staring.

He slipped off the bed. His feet padded around, approaching me. I tried hard to keep up my charade. My eyes were scrunched tight, mouth agape. He tentatively stuck his finger in it. He moved my lips like a puppet.

"Oh yes Chad! I'd love to go out with you. But it's so cold outside. Let's snuggle indoors and make like bunnies." His falsetto was disconcerting. He must've been practicing. My level breathing was beginning to become more ragged. I wanted to laugh more than anything. I'm positive this wasn't another way to feed his hungry ego. I'll let him continue to play out his wild fantasy.

"Alas, lets. You may lead the way m'lady." He kissed the air, grasping my hand. Alrighty, time to wake up. My eyes creaked open to face him. I pretended I had not heard the conversation and stared down out our intertwined hand. He struggled to maintain his cover. Pikachu's smile mocked him. I always suspected Pokémon was awesome like that. Now I'm certain. "Ah, you are alive. I had to check your pulse. Feels good to me!" He remove his hand hastily.

"You have a funny way of checking a persons pulse." I propped up on my elbows. "More to the point, you thought I was dead? I'm anything but." The neighbors groaned and knocked on the wall to tell em to keep quiet. Sure, now they want to sleep. Not at three in the morning like any decent human being.

"Noted. Can we have breakfast before I die of hunger?" He plodded to the kitchen. I poured us both a bowl of Fruity Hoops. Chad shoveled it down with his spoon. I sat down next to him, taking my time with my cereal. I contemplated starting a conversation with him. One that provokes him to say something, perhaps prod him to share a big secret about you know who. For those of you who have managed to remain out of the loop this long, I'm talking about me.

"Did you know a female ferret will die if it goes into heat and can't find a mate? Poor ferret. There could be a male ferret madly in love with her, but he's too wimpy to tell her he loves her. So she dies. All he had to do was tell her how he felt and it could've been all fine and dandy. Chad, why does the ferret have to die?" I grabbed his shirt , jerking the cereal off his spoon. He nictated. I let go of his shirt, suddenly very interested in my cereal. I said too much.

"I'll get back to you on that." I continued to eat my soggy cereal. I'm moving those dreams to my mental list of delenda. They can be erased from all existence for all I care. If Chad's going to be a stubborn jerk head, two can play at that game.

At this rate, I'm happy I am not a ferret.


	9. viscidity and susurration

**Viscidity and Susurration **

Chad placed his dish in the sink along with mine. The metallic clang echoed in the empty house. I was on the edge, even though I was standing in the middle of the floor. Physically, I was right next to him. Immanently, I was teetering on nothing but my toes. The vast sea was below, ready to swallow me up as I walked the plank I had set out for myself. I'm not saying we had been playing pirate.

_But you will admit Chad was searching for some booty right? _

I thanked Doris for smacking Galahad. That comment was so uncalled for. It didn't fail to cure my slight seasickness I was getting from this wave of emotion. I smiled inwardly. Not necessarily at the comment, but the idea of Chad dressed as a pirate. The eye patch covering his one sparkly eye, pirate hat destroying his perfect hair. I need to find mom's old Halloween costume and force him to wear it. Ahoy me hearty.

"A hippo can open its mouth wide enough to fit a 4 foot tall child inside." He looked at me in all seriousness, adjusting the flow of the faucet. The heat of the water was turning his hands a bright cherry color. He didn't notice until the pain became too intense. He pulled away. Just like he does when anything gets too intense.

"Why are you telling me this? I'm not going to help you get Mr. Condor's daughter wedged in there if that's what you're thinking." I took over scrubbing the bowls. Once I was sure they were squeaky clean, I set them on a towel to dry. The forecast coming in over my battery operated radio predicted cooler temperatures yet. On second thought, I'll dry the dishes now. They'd probably freeze dry if I didn't.

"You shared a fun fact with me about ferrets. I found it generous to reciprocate. Did you know an ostrich's eye is bigger than it's brain? See now you tell me something weird about animals." Right about now I'd say it's pretty safe to call Chad an ostrich. Considering he has relatively small eyes, that's saying a lot. Then again, I have considered him a species all on his own. Homo cooperus, you keep it up and you'll become extinct.

"Is this your idea of small talk? I would've thought spouting facts from Animal Planet would turn girls off if anything." I set the bowls back in the cupboard. Using the towel, I wiped down the counter. Crumbs flew amuck. I brushed them into a corner inconspicuously.

"The term 'small talk' suggests I'm only here for a brief visit Miss Munroe. We both know I'm trapped here for the time being." I had masked my facial emotions well. To be honest, I was entirely pleased by his terminology. Trapped? He acts like we're never going to make it out. Am I really that horrible of company for him?

_Sonny dear, you're overreacting. _Doris sipped her dark cherry mocha venti, the first of many coffees she'd need to get through the day. The beverage was doused with whipped cream. As a result, when she pulled it away a large foamy mustache was left in it's place. I'm not sure if I should be taking advice from someone with a coffee induced mustache. Come to think of it, I shouldn't be taking advice from an imaginary elf, regardless of what's on their face.

Pushing my sensitivity aside, I tugged at my current outfit. I was in desperate need of a hot shower and change of clothes. Granted, taking advantage of my amenities would be rude if I didn't offer them to my guest. Or prisoner considering how he feels. "I'm going to take a shower and change into new threads. Here, you can play with this hand mirror." He took it from my grasp. Yeah, he was going to have fun.

I had to cut my shower short. The water was coming out ice cold. Another minute in there and I would've been a human popsicle. I tiptoed past Chad, who was still admiring himself in the mirror, wrapped in a towel. I managed to stay out of his reflection. That's all he'd need to see is me half naked. No thank you.

I hunted for the warmest sweater I could possibly find. I could feel icicles forming on the ends of my hair. I pinched them off. Buried deep in the darkest corner of my closet was a sweater. That's right. I, Sonny Munroe, succumbed to wearing the horridly ugly yet oddly comfortable holiday sweater. Normally this wouldn't be a problem for me. I have an innate ability to throw all pride aside and boast a holiday sweater. On that holiday. Not a month later.

"Are you wearing a turkey?" I smoothed out the wrinkles of my Thanksgiving sweater. It's feathers sprawled across my abdomen. It was definitely an attention grabber. Chad, don't you dare look the turkey in the eyes. Your eyes do not belong there. His eyes were firmly glued there. Violated, I crossed my arms in front of my chest. Staring contest is over boys. This forced him to look elsewhere.

See, the thing about Chad is he notices everything you try to hide and nothing that's out in the open. Like that whole ferret discussion this morning. Did he honestly think I was just creating conversation? Are all boys this stupid?

_I take offense to that. _

Sorry Galahad. You're not as stupid.

_Thank you. Hey wait a minute!_

Yup, guys are stupid.

"You'd be surprised what I'd do to stay warm." I wiggled my matching toe socks. Family members may have good intentions, but there's always a break in communication. This is understood and accepted. You can't run away from your family; they're there to stay. You can run away from your friends though. I sense Chad is trying to do this. Usually people run away when they don't like a person. Tired of being hurt or neglected. He runs away before they even have the chance.

"How 'bout cuddling?" His invitation shocked me. Here I was, thinking he was running away like a kid to the circus and now he was putting me in center ring? Well, if we're going to be in the circus I claim being the human cannonball. I think it'd be fun to soar in the air by a single blast. I'd bolt across the sky and nothing could stop me. I refuse to plummet to the ground.

As of current, my life is the tightrope act. I have to maintain balance to reach the other side. The path is thin and rigid. There isn't any room for fault. Difference is, I don't have a safety net. I can't misstep and say whoops. Curse you Chad and your stupid rope. You can't even give me a practice run. You throw me up onto this line and expect me to get it right. That's too much to ask of me. At least in my opinion. I can't believe I agreed to this act. Where's that contract?

"That sounds- very intimate." I was trying to find the right words to no avail. I piled my hair on top of my head into a bun. I flicked the excess moisture in his direction. He flinched. I plunked down along side him. He was no longer captivated by his friend in the mirror. He likes to believe that he trapped them in a parallel universe jail. He says they were charged with the crime of being too devilishly handsome. Ha, try overly conceited. If only you could be arrested for that. I'd testify against him.

"Would it sound any better if I said we should closely embrace to share body heat?" I shook my head. Rephrase it all you want. It's still an invasion of personal space performed by two people who regularly preserve a relationship with each other. Admitting that would mean admitting to a relationship and an entire hallway of doors left to be open.

"If you want to meet my turkey so badly Chaddy, all you had to do was ask. There's no necessity for all these charades." I swiveled around to face him. He eyed me up and down, arising from the couch. I rose with him. The thing about Chad is he is viscid. I find the more time I spend with him, the more stuck to him I am. We're not the slinky dog on Toy Story. Surely I can separate from him at any time I wish. Therein lies the problem. I don't want to.

_Gasp. Did she really just think that? _Doris poured the remains of her venti on Galahad's head. Note to self: Doris gets a better Christmas present than Galahad.

_You are aware I can hear everything you're thinking. _

Oh cripes.

Chad left me standing while he went to retrieve the blanket we'd left in the bedroom. I was in the middle of the room, the susurration of the wind surrounding me. But this time I felt secure. Granted, I'm still out on my pirate plank, but I'm not on the edge. I'm right where all the excitement is.

Batten down the hatches.


	10. perissology and accismus

**Perissology and Accismus **

A blanket snaked its way around my shoulders. I clutched the front portion so it couldn't fall off. Chad embedded himself in the free space next to me. We sank into the couch. The snuggling had yet to commence. He slung his arm in the air, reaching towards me. We watched as it made its descent on my waist. Good job chap. You managed to put your arm around me without splitting your pants. You're going to kill me for this.

"Shouldn't the blanket be overtop us? Unless we've suddenly developed powers that allow us to absorb the blanket heat from our butts. Chad, do we have super butts?" I lifted mine off the couch to readjust our seating. Strange, I did feel colder now. That may be due to our distance. No reason to get all hot and bothered over not cuddling. I am allowed to get all hot and bothered when he trips over the bottom of the blanket. That's because he fell into me like a collapsing wall of dominos. I however, had the masterful power to remain standing. Chad isn't that brute.

"For your information, my butt is very callipygian." To prove his point, he bent over and shook it like a milkshake. Mmm, sounds delicious. The milkshake, not Chad. I have the craving for a blackberry milkshake like the ones I used to get in Wisconsin. They picked the berries that morning from the garden and would churn their own ice cream. It was so thick and rich. It would clog the straw if you attempted to drink it. Most of the time I used a spoon to finish it before it melted. Once I did try to use a straw.

"_Hey, I'm Theodore. But all my buds call me Theo." _

_ "So should I call you Theo or should I tack the adore on there?"_

_ "It's a bit early for adoration don't cha think? That normally comes after the first date."_

_ "Are you asking me out on a date?"_

_ "I'll pick you up at seven." Theo left the store._

_ "You don't even know where I live!" _

Suffice to say, the date fell short of my expectations. He arrived ten minutes late, plucking a flower from my mom's garden to give me as an apology. The flower lasted longer than our relationship. He propped me up on his handlebars of his bike. I told him I was not going to risk breaking my neck riding like that. He sneered but agreed to walk. I let him order. Digging into his pockets he found two crumbled dollars, a cluster of nickels and dimes and a wad of pocket lint. He insisted that I choose a booth by the window and he'd bring our drinks, plural, over. I figured, how nice, offering to pay and all.

I let it slide when he flirted with the counter girl. He needed a discount to get two smalls with the money he had. At the time I hadn't known she slipped him her number via straw wrapper. Imagine yanking the paper off your straw to find your date distraught over torn numbers. I plunged the straw into the small banana milkshake he brought back to the table. He stuffed his straw in the other side and began what can only be described as the human vacuum cleaner effect.

My suction skills were subpar. I only got a taste and the drink was gone. Theo plowed through the curly fries he had somehow snagged. I extended my arm past the melted pool of ice cream on the table. It was retracted immediately. I couldn't comprehend that he had swatted at my hand. What was he, a cat?

Lucy entered the store. I excused myself, to which he grunted an affirmative reply. She ordered a chocolate shake and sat down with me in a booth. I sped through the specifics of my date. She picked up her half finished shake (which she was gracious enough to share) and waltzed over to our table. Theo glanced up from licking his fingers clean of grease. The look on his face was so priceless as Lucy proceeded to empty her shake on Theo's head. It pooled at his abnormally effeminate eyelashes, dripping onto his lap. Poor boy had brown splotches all over his brand new cargos.

I laughed.

_Hey sweet pea. _Doris chugged at her vanilla bean frappuccino.

_Oh hi Doris. What's up?_

_ Not to interrupt your reminiscing, but uh, you do remember you have company right? Real, living breathing company that doesn't plan on getting the counter girls digits?_

_ You think that counter girl is interested in short guys? _Galahad choked on his apple fritter. He had that coming. Doris pounded him on the back.

_Ever notice how you always manage to get hurt when you say anything doltish? _

_ No._

"Yo, Sonny. Woo hoo." I caught Chad's hand to stop it from swinging about. "You plan on sitting down anytime soon? You've been staring off into space for like the past five minutes. I bet you were stunned that I knew a word like callipygian. A casting director used it to describe me once. I looked it up. Means shapely buttocks." He looked smug. Wow, you can read a dictionary. That takes a lot of talent. What do you want, a ribbon for your efforts?

I hunkered down next to him, the blanket falling over us like the snow on the streets. It's ninguid outside; I don't expect the snow to let up any time soon. I let Chad string his arm around my waist and reel me in. Goodness, that makes me sound like a fish. Tehe, Chad is fishing for love.

I felt an odd blowing on the back of my neck. I couldn't help but turn around to see what he was up to. I caught him in mid-blow. "What are you doing?" He tugged at a section of hair that was escaping my bun. My hair unraveled further from its tie.

"It was just dangling there and looked really amusing. It blows in the wind." I raised my arms to tighten my hair, barely missing his jaw with my elbow. The look I was giving him spoke for itself. "I'll stop."

He did stop. But then he developed a hatred for our silence. It was almost as if he needed to talk to keep himself from enjoying the moment too much.

"Jellybeans." He stated it like I had asked him a question and he had found his answer. "They're so delicious. There's birthday cake and watermelon and red apple. So many many flavors. Somedays I'll combine all the flavors together and come up with a new flavor. Like when you put the blueberry with the buttered popcorn it tastes like a blueberry muffin. Or you can make tiramisu with 2 cappuccino, a cream soda and chocolate pudding. Sonny, you have to try it." I swear, I could've played ping pong with that boy's eyeballs. They kept growing with every word.

"Yeah Chad. Jellybeans are pretty cool." Personally, I like when mom buys the tub of Jelly Bellys ® at Easter. As a kid, I'd sort them all out by kind first and order them by color. This was a waste of time since mom would pour all of them back in when I went to bed. I ate all of the speckled ones. I'd leave the plain ones for last. It was tradition for so long, I forgot how it instigated.

"When we get out of here, I'm taking you to Fairfield so we can tour the factory." Is this Chad's way of asking me on a date? You're supposed to give the girl an option as to whether she cares to go or not. He's bad at this.

"Is that an invitation or a demand?" I pretended to examine my nails. I was trying to practice accismus. I wanted to come of as ambivalent to the answer. Deep down, I really wanted to know. I was eager that it'd be a date.

"It is merely a request for your companionship on a perusal of a food exhibition." Okay, so not a date. "That way I can block out any fans that may be coming my way." That's fine Chad. Add insult to injury. Can I have a side of humiliation with that?

"Not that I'm not intrigued by how jelly beans are made and all, but I'm booked for the remainder of the month. I have work and buying presents and decorating. I volunteered to dress as an elf at the charity Santa this year." They loaned me a pair of stripy stockings, a jingle cap and shoes. I still have to get the shirt back from the dry cleaners. There were some odd spots on it. I'm guessing somebody wasn't feeling holly jolly when the last elf to wear this approached them.

"Oh. Penelope can go with me then. I'm sure my good friend Ulysses Grant will keep her company." Silence fell on us again as he cradled me in his arms.

_Do you think you could get me some of those cappuccino jellybeans? _


	11. coalescence and lily livers

**Coalescence and Lily livers **

I could spit. Metaphorically of course. My mouth I have found to be quiet dry since Chad asked for my companionship as he likes to put it. Hate to rain on your parade Chaddy boy, but it so would've been classified as a date. I thought a guy like you would've had more class than jelly beans. I like them as much as the next girl, but for a first day? Really Chad, really? Oops, I sounded just like him for a minute.

It's pretty obvious, at least to the two elves inside my head, that I having feelings for him. Yes, that does mean feelings other than hate and disgust. I'm becoming accustomed to the crevices of his body. I've found it quite comfortable under his arm, even if he does need a new dose of deodorant. He probably hasn't put any on since yesterday morning.

I'm half tempted to spritz him with a can of air freshener. He could smell like white tea and lily or fruit explosion. Perhaps even a Hawaiian breeze. Mom keeps an arsenal of Glade® air fresheners under the sink. She sprays by her mood, or, even though she won't admit it, her company. I've noticed when she has guy friends over she'll break out the apple cinnamon and defrost a freezer pie. She is such a little cheater. She has had more luck than me with the dating ring lately, so I better keep my mouth shut.

The other half of me is tempted to embrace his man stink. How often do you get to say you cuddled with the greatest actor of our generation? I seem to be able to say this more frequently since our entrapment. Still, I can't say I've ever canoodled with him. What kind of word is canoodle anyway? It sounds like somebody slurred the phrase 'can of noodles' all into one big word.

_What are you having for lunch dude?_

_I'm eating a canoodle. _

_Righteous man._

I decided I like my second half better. The stench is totally bad. My eyes haven't started to water yet; there's no need to pinch my nose and hold my breath. I've already hurt him once today. Or did I? I'm still fuzzy on the whole date, not date thing. I'm not going to push it with a body odor issue. We've all been there, done that.

The room was brighter than it had been. It was easier to tell the contours of his face, define every expression coming across. He smiled when he found me studying him. I bet you when Chad is old and gray, he'll have parentheses wrinkles right along his mouth. I giggled at the sheer thought of him as an old man. No more of his luscious blond hair. It'd be cut back, his hair line receded. Almost like his housekeeper started to mow the lawn and then up and quit. He'd have little tufts of hair sticking out from the tips of his ears. He'd continue to shave though. I've learned yesterday that he keeps his jaw as clean as humanly possible. There's not a spot of stubble anywhere. This would be very convenient if I was kissing him. But I'm not. I like how he comes prepared.

My pocket buzzed. We both jerked at the vibration being sent through our bodies. I guess I forgot to turn that back down. Oops. I tugged my phone out, checking the screen. It was a new text from my mom.

_I'm hanging here until the storm passes. Do not eat my cake._

Sure mom, I'm stuck here with Chad, but we're fine. Thanks for asking. I can't believe she cares more about her cake than me. It's a massive six inches tall, filled with decadent chocolate and smothered in frosting. I should take a fingerful, just to spite her. She might search for fingerprints though. I could blame Chad. Nah, she wouldn't buy it. That, or she'd buy him another slice for liking it so much. I decided against it, mainly because I'm too lazy to get up. I texted her back.

_ Fine. But I'm taking the last pudding cup. _

I turned my phone off after I sent the message. My battery was borderline dead, and there was no way I could charge it. I stuffed it back into my pocket. He wasn't sure if he was supposed to put his arm back around me or not. He looked like he was about to attempt a fake yawn arm stretch. He was judging how much space he had to expand. Otherwise he'd knock me in the face. Giving a girl a black eye is not the way to win her over. I accept bribery in the form of flowers and candy, thank you.

"Want a pudding cup? My mom said we couldn't eat the cake, so I told her I was taking her last pudding cup." Ah sweet revenge. In the flavor of banana cream pie no less. It sounds pretty malicious. I mean come on. It is the last pudding cup. What could be worse than that?

I came back from the kitchen with the Snack Pack ® and two spoons. He eyed me as I set it down, peeling back the lid. I licked it clean. He watched my tongue flick about the lid, scooping up every drop. I stopped mid-lick to gauge his reaction. He quickly looked away, clutching his spoon. Then it occurred to him. One pudding cup, two spoons.

Tentatively, he dug out a glob and took a bite. He sucked his spoon dry. I was on my first spoonful when he stuck his back in. We continued this process until the cup was empty. Hypothetically you could say we shared spit. Lucy is never going to believe me when I get back to Wisconsin. Snuggling and sharing food with Chad Dylan Cooper? It's like a third date and we haven't even had our first. Well hitting third date status early is safer than third base status early. For now, he's going to stick to striking out.

We need to play baseball. I don't care if I'm knee deep in slush when we do. If I'm feeling generous I may let him reach first base. I doubt he'd catch the hint. I might as well stare him in the eye, in a non-creepy, non-eagle way, and demand he ask me out. Now would be the prime time to do it considering he's trapped here. I practiced my stare on the spoons standing in the cup. They toppled over. Looks like I have to keep working on it.

"Got milk?" His tongue darted out, licking the pudding off his lips. I hated to disappoint him, but by this point, it's probably spoiled. The power's been down since last night.

"I don't want you getting sick off of spoiled milk." Chad is hard enough to deal with when he's healthy. I'd hate to see him get a fever, proclaiming he's hotter than ever. Not that I'd rather have him tossing his cookies. Or milk as the case may be.

"Aw, you care." He grabbed my hand and coddled it. His thumb stretched over my knuckles. I focused on how my fingers were tingeing red, the same color of my chipping holiday nail polish. I'll have to apply a second coat soon.

"About my floor. I don't want to wipe up your barf." Great, I messed that up. The window of opportunity was wide open. All I had to do was say 'with my life' and we could've ran off together. Once the snow melted that is. We wouldn't get very far before one of us caught frostbite. We could've crept off together. Nah, that sounds plain creepy. Know that I think about it, answering him like that would've sounded creepy. Perhaps a subdued 'of course' would've been best. Ah, too late to fix it now.

He frowned. A wrinkle creased his forehead. It doesn't matter that I saved him from the spoiled milk monster (superpower of turning insides into outsides). No, he's peeved that I did it to save myself work. Which for the record, a ridiculous phrase considering I don't write this stuff down, it was more than avoiding a little elbow grease. He has to be the one to ask me out.

_Ma____poupée__, I'm afraid your crush is a bit of a lily liver. _Doris imbibed a light vanilla doubleshot, hopping on a stationary bike. Galahad came by, munching on a Chicken Santa Fe Panini.

_ She's right Sonny._ He munched his sandwich, pushing the food to the sides of his mouth to make room for more. Chipmunk cheeks anyone?

_ Galahad, if you keep eating like that you'll get fat._ _Come exercise with me. _Doris tossed her drained can into the recycling receptacle. He lifted the sandwich up to his mouth, taking another bite.

_ This is exercise._ _I'm lift, I bite, I lower. It's like doing weights, but more delicious._ Doris picked up the pace on her bike. Looks like the only thing Galahad will be pumping today is his blood pressure.

I cleared my throat. "Would you prefer a glass of water? It may not taste the same, but it will quench your thirst. It won't make you feel miserable either." He nodded. We both sat there at first. Neither of us wanted to get up. I lounged further into his side. He wrapped me in his arms. We sat for a couple of minutes. "Uh Chad, the water?"

"You want some?" he asked, erecting his back.

"I was going to get some. But your arm...it seemed...lonely." If that came out anywhere near as robotic as it felt, there'd be problems.

"It's not the only part of me feeling lonely y'know." He dragged me into the kitchen with him and poured half a bottle of water into a cup. He handed it to me. I took an appreciative sip and placed it on the counter. He screwed the cap back onto the bottle. Picking up the glass, he examined it for remains of my chapstick and put his lips in the same spot. He took a long drawn out swig of water. He set it back down on the counter.

That was oddly deliberate of him. "Oh really? Do tell, where else do you feel lonesome?" I swirled the drink in its glass.

"Well for one-" he started. A large thud interrupted him. Oh come on! I was hoping he'd say lips. But Mr. Curious George over here had to go investigate. It turned out some snow had fallen off a tree branch. Mother nature, aren't you on my side?

We backed away from the window. "You were saying?"

"My stomach is pretty lonely. Do you think it could meet a granola bar or a big bowl of fruit?" He clutched his stomach for emphasis.

God I swear, this boy would sell his brain on EBay for food. That is, if he hasn't already.


	12. bêtises and oculolinctus

**Bêtises and Oculolinctus **

Chad's stomach is full of untoasted toast and Smucker's ® guava jelly. He had insisted to referring to it in this manner. Apparently sane people put jelly on toast. Crazy people put jelly on bread. Therefore, if Chad admitted he was eating a jelly sandwich, he'd be crazy. I think he is regardless. How stupid can a boy be to not pick up the most obvious clues? Ferrets and lonely arms seem pretty blunt to me. Chad can be a bit stuck up sometimes though. There has to be some way to get through to him.

_Have you tried wine and a candlelit dinner? _Galahad asked, out of breath on the treadmill. Looks like Doris got him on it after all.

A double iced cinnamon roll on a hook fell in front of him. It was dangling on a fishing line. Doris adjusted her grip on the pole to slurp at her venti pumpkin spice latte. A surge of energy went through Galahad. He suddenly had the speed of a cheetah. That, and the drool of a bloodhound.

_Don't give her ideas of underage drinking. It'd be better to have sparkling grape juice than confess your love to a drunken fool. Confess your love to a sober fool instead. I would know. _

Galahad was too distracted by his motivation to take offence.

I brought a stack of magazines into the room. They were mostly back issues of Tween Weekly. I figure Chad will enjoy finding pictures of himself. More accurately, I think he'll enjoy not finding pictures of me even more. I set the pile between us and dove into a periodical from a couple of months ago. There were half a dozen pictures of him or his cast. I handed it over.

He grimaced at the mustaches I had drawn on some of his pictures. A black handlebar mustache is quite the statement against his blond hair. I bet he'd be one of those people that groom it. He'd buy himself a little comb and make sure every hair is in place. He'd probably buy special shampoo and conditioner for it too. I wonder if he'd blow dry it.

Just for the sheer fact that I love making Chad's skin crawl, I decided to share a piece of my more, shall we say aberrant knowledge. I leafed through a few pages, stopping at a picture of Chad with his teeth blacked out. I looked up. He clearly was disgusted. I closed the magazine and pushed the stack aside. "Hey Chad, ever hear about oculolinctus?" He lowered his magazine from obstructing his line of vision.

"No..." He eyed me wearily. I stared straight back at him. Curiosity got the better of him. "What is it?" He set the magazine aside with the others. I grabbed a hold of his hands. His attention was firmly glued onto me. Now's the part where I get to totally freak him out. This aught to be good. Maybe I should draw it out some more.

"I don't know if you are ready. It's a very serious subject. Very, very serious." I dropped his hands and turned away dramatically. Now he just has to know.

"I can be serious. Tell me, tell me!" He was giddy like a little girl wanting to hear a secret at a slumber party. He noticed this, lowering his tone to a deep baritone. "I mean, tell me?" I got him. Hook, line and sinker. Obliging, I turned back. My gaze latched onto his. I wanted to sound completely sincere. That would freak him out even more.

"It's a paraphilia where one person gets aroused by licking their partner's eyeball. With their tongue." I darted my tongue out of my mouth and flicked it in the air. I sucked it back in. Chad refused to blink. His face was frozen in shock. What, he thought I was going to lick his eye? Not even if he paid me.

I really wish he'd blink. The way things are going, it looks like he's waiting for me to do it. I picked up my magazine. I was only a few pages into it when he responded. He finally blinked, thank God. His eyes proceeded to scrunch down in deep thought. His previously wide blue eyes were now barely visible. No need to close your eyes. I'm not putting my tongue that close to your face. Ever.

"Now that's an odd way to turn a guy on." He opened his eyes. I ignored him for a minute, engrossed in an article. Then I processed what he said. Oh yeah, there is no way I'm letting this drop now.

"Are you saying you're turned on by the idea of oculolinctus?" I let the story fall to my lap. I had meant solely to ruffle his feathers. This was unexpected. And greeted with the greatest respect. I always knew my days of researching odd things on the information highway would pay off one day. Today is that one day.

"I'm not entirely turned off. Maybe it depends on who's spit is coming in contact with my eye." He raised his eyebrows towards me. What was he implying?

"Care to elaborate on the subject? Personally, I'd love to know who you want to lick your eye. That way I know whose tongue I'm looking at when they blow it up for the cover of Tween Weekly." I was keeping calm and rational about the debacle. No need to freak out. It's not like he wants me to lick his eye. Or at least, I hope not. He yanked my tongue down and examined it. Yes Chad, these are what we call taste buds. Fascinating, but not relevant.

"You'd make a good partner." He let my tongue snap back into place. I wish he hadn't. I swear, I think I might have swallowed it. That's not even physically possible. The impossible has been happening a lot lately. It wouldn't surprise me.

"There is no way on God's green- scratch that white- earth I am ever going to lick your eyeball." I crossed my arms in defense.

"There is more than one kind of partner y'know." Ashamed, he trailed his hand down my arm, eyes drooping. "Maybe I all I wanted was a hand to hold."

Oh my gosh, oh my gosh, oh my gosh! He did not. He could not. But he did. Chad Dylan Cooper has admitted his feelings. Hallelujah let the heavens open and the angelic chorus sing. Cue lighting. This is major. Where is that spotlight?

I let my arms unravel. I took his hand, this time with no bad intentions. His eyes shot up like fireworks. I know I felt the explosions. We grinned like idiots.

"Wanna devour that piece of cake in the kitchen?" I was ready to celebrate. Mom would understand. This was the biggest thing to happen to me since, well a very long time. Besides, I'm hungry.

We raced into the kitchen and murdered the cake. No crumbs escaped, all prisoner to our bellies. I am going to be in so much trouble. It was so worth it.

Doris drinks her toffee mocha, rocking in an antique rocking chair. Galahad sits at her feet, noshing on his giant cinnamon roll. He's a sticky mess, but he doesn't seem to mind. For now, life is good. The world is in order and the surmountable amount of angst is gone.

Doris tilts back and takes a look at her work. Good job Doris.

_Hey! _

You too Galahad. You too.

**Fin. Thank you so much to everyone who as reviewed, favorited, alerted and kept me going. You guys are the best! **


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